Set in Stone
by HedgeNinja
Summary: How bad does a simple mission have to go for Fenris and Anders to work together? Worse than giant spiders apparently, and Hawke *hates* giant spiders. Contains caves, snark, mHawke whump and a little extra for the team.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Bioware own everything, I own nothing. No profit made, lots of fun had.

_Authors notes: My first Dragon Age fic and I've probably taken all kinds of terrible liberties with the universe canon (I hope it enjoyed it too). But there's not *nearly* enough mHawke whump-h/c fic out there and I wanted one. And instant magical healing on tap isn't very fun for that, so our heroes aren't that lucky...  
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_Hawke_

"Tell me we did not climb down to this stinking fish cave to deal to a group of scum who have already finished one another off" Fenris muttered as we made our way inland along the tunnel that, while dry once it had climbed above the waterline did have a lingering odour of seaweed. It had been a chance tip-off from Isabela, who'd glimpsed a Tevinter ship that had been creeping along the coast for a few weeks moored and transferring its wretched human cargo. The cave was an ideal location, its entrance far enough down the cliff to be hidden underwater at all but nearly low tide.

"No we climbed down for our health, it's the sea air. Perhaps we'll meet a family of giant spiders here on a holiday" Anders baited. Fenris growled a response in Tevinter, Varric muttered something exasperated in dwarven, and I sighed. Like dealing with scrapping siblings except I couldn't lock one of them in a cupboard. And here I'd thought dealing with slavers was a simple enough job that everyone could focus on and go home happy. Giant spiders were sounding better and better. And I _hate_ giant spiders.

Finding the first bodies at least meant that everyone shut up and woke up. Three bodies, two slavers and one of their captives, an elf. Nothing to say who she was except for an intricately woven woolen wrist cuff. Gently I took it; perhaps someone in the alienage would recognise it and get word to her family. Not a mage, thank the Maker; I did _not_ want that argument started again about who oppressed who the most. Nobody deserved to die like this, or to lose someone like this. Why did I bring them together on a job? Because I was shorthanded; it happened. Maybe I could pay them to work together…

"Hawke" A little way ahead just before the next curve in the tunnel Varric was crouching over a pile of rubble, frowning. "Anything worthwhile?" I asked. He gestured to the pile "That remind you of anything?" I looked. Big rock, trails of little rocks.

"Like what Elka threw up on the carpet last week but with rocks?" He gave me a look, and then frowned at the rocks again, absently running one hand along Bianca's stock meaning he was trying to remember something.

"What am I looking for?" I asked. Varric almost seemed worried, generally not a good sign. He shook his head "Something at the back of my mind. Not sure. What happened to the bodies?"

My turn to frown. "They're pretty torn up but not by blades. Animals of some sort maybe, but it's not clear what. Looks like they were running from something though" The rock floor of the passage was dotted with dark stains that marked the tunnel ahead.

Varric stood up as the others joined us "Yeah, something. I have a bad feeling about this".

"Well maybe we'll find whatever it is around the next corner and all your questions will be answered. Aren't you lucky?"

Several turns and several corpses later Varric came back from scouting ahead to say the tunnel emptied out into a cavern, looked like the slavers' main base but there was no sign of movement. We went in cautiously. The cavern was a lump you could have fitted into the main hall of the Chantry a couple of times over. Big enough for a very big spider. I notice these things. And we all noticed the bodies. Three slavers lay amongst a tumble of crates and gear; they'd been working out of here for a while. On the other side of the cavern were more bodies. Bodies chained to each other and to heavy wooden posts driven into the ground. Five, scattered amongst the rubble that lay in piles across the cavern and around the posts.

"Stoneshit" from Varric; followed by something else in dwarven that didn't sound complimentary. He darted ahead to the posts; we were all moving that way, scanning the cavern as we went but it seemed like we were the only living things. Would I ever get used to cleaning out places like this? I hoped not. Varric leant over something in the rubble briefly then looked up, definitely worried. Not good. "Stay out of the rocks!" he snapped "They're not just- they're people. Were anyway" Bianca was out as he moved towards us "Hawke we need to leave. Now" At that moment Fenris snapped alert "We are being watched" In an instant we were loaded for bear.

"Stay out in the open; you get near the walls you won't have a chance to see them coming" Varric was rapidly scanning the shadows as we made for the tunnel in a loose defensive knot.

"Movement at the entrance" Fenris stated at the same time that something flickered in the darkness at the far end of the cavern, near a pile of rocks that might once have been another tunnel.

"Varric what are we facing?"

"Something not supposed to be here, shouldn't even be down below. 'Stone shifters' you could call the; like living rock but when they're still you could walk right past them and see nothing but stone. They carry a, a taint. Those piles of rock? That's pretty much what you get when you're through eating and they're through dying. The poor bastards that died in that passage were the lucky ones". There was movement surrounding us around the cave's edge, and then we got our first look. It looked almost man-shaped, roughly hacked from stone, though it crouched awkwardly on hands and feet as it shuffled forward.

"This would be the point where you tell us what happened to the unlucky ones wouldn't it" Varric's ghost tale was rudely interrupted as they rushed us.

If the Maker was kind that was the only one that had started out human. What I sent flying under my shield could have been dog, wolf, who knew.

"How do we kill them?" I shouted; Fenris sent several more flying, I could hear the crack of magic and Bianca's hum.

"Heat, cold and a lot of punch. I might actually pay for some lava right now; you have to blow these things to gravel. Hit them when they're moving or you'll be hitting a golem with a wet nug!" And thank you for _that_ image Varric. And easier said than done, having stalled us they were proving bloody good at harassing in twos and threes to allow one to strike. And they were fast; even tracking them when they froze in the shadows you'd swear there was nothing but rock there.

"Focus your fire" I ordered Varric and Anders. "Fenris, let's keep the rest of them busy". We could play bait-and-ambush as well. Briefly I wished for Elka's ability to cause mayhem but even she couldn't chew stone. Slowly we set about grinding them down, and I do mean grind. Scatter, move, cover a gap in the defenses, scatter them again until my shield felt like it weighed as much Kirkwall's Twins; the walls seemed to ripple everywhere you looked until you weren't sure if it was real or imagined. Mostly by Varric's heaviest crossbow bolts and the mountain's worth of frost bolts Anders had sent flying maybe half the creatures lay shattered and spread across the cavern floor when the rest seemed to pull back for a moment. It seemed like the polite time to leave.

"Fall back to the tunnel!" and that was what seemed like half the wall by our exit collapsed, some piling across the mouth, and some moving towards us.

Oh nug piss and demons, was there a single cave in the Free Marches that did _not_ contain a large-creature-with-too-many-legs? Even as it moved and Fenris sprang forwards to meet it "You will face me!" snarled in challenge the rest of them charged. Scatter, move, scatter, move and here we go again. Anders stepped forward to send out a sweeping wall of ice and I grabbed the instant to glance at Fenris; if he could keep it off our backs long enough to finish the rest of them we might just get out of this. The monster lunged, slamming a forelimb down a split second after the elf's avoiding roll took him closer to the partial cover offered by the slavers' piles of equipment; and then what had seemed like a cloth lump uncoiled itself from on top of a pile of crates at Fenris' open back. No time for anything else; I slipped my arm free of my shield's straps and slung it in a flat spin, crashing into the thing moments before it landed. Fenris slid away, avoiding the shield as his sword came up and then something punched into my ribs like a golem's fist. Staggering I clubbed at it as it scrabbled for holds on the edge of my breastplate and jaws snapped at my face, its weight as it thrashed sent us both down. I buried my sword between its jaws, trying for enough leverage to roll it off; it jerked a forelimb and a stone spike slid in between plate and chain and ribs. Pain, hot and sharp. With a yell I wrenched free from underneath it, scrambling back just as a bolt from Anders froze the thing in place. Right; focused fire. Clear the rest back Hawke; still got a sword. Why was it so hard to stand? I fumbled for one of Anders' flasks and felt the cool rush that meant healing magic and usually less pain; not this time. Blurrily I heard Varric shouting my name as he stepped in to put a heavy bolt in to the shifter at point blank range, shattering it to icy chunks. Then his face was in front of mine, his eyes worried. Heat chewing its way across my ribs. I got as far as "poison…claws..." before the world became heavy, grey and pain.


	2. Chapter 2

_Anders_

Hawke fell and I felt the healing spell slide off and scatter without the sense of connection that meant success. A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with magic. Poison. They were among the hardest and most vicious injuries to treat, even if I knew the basis of it. And time was _always_ of the essence. The enemy had to be destroyed. _Now_.

"I will not allow your death!" I cried, calling Vengeance howling to the fore and channeling our fury to send bolt after bolt into the creatures until they stood encased in ice, unmoving. "Finish them" I snarled, turning on the only enemy left; I flicked a healing thread at the elf, he was useful, and began again. Bolt after bolt, drawing on the body's resources, ignoring the weakness or the blood that ran from palms and fingertips. The thing lunged and stamped, turned to charge; I threw my self aside as it missed by a hairsbreadth and continued casting almost without pause; we would kill it. A heavy blow from the elf shattered several limbs on one side, as it stumbled I snapped the lines of spirit force around it, slowing, crushing. It flailed wailing as I increased the pressure. At last the blows and bolts hit home and it split like a log in a fire, falling silent as we crushed the pieces to pieces. It lay silent as I whirled around to scan the cavern, let them come, we would have them- Hawke. Oh Maker, no.

I ran, forcing Vengeance out as I reached desperately for the stillness of mind that let me heal. He was still alive but barely conscious and feverish, flinching and shivering at whatever burned inside him. I grabbed for the pouch at my waist to begin work and felt a cold horror as broken glass crunched. No mana, Vengeance and I had drawn dangerously deep, and no lyrium, soaked uselessly into the leather, unreachable. In time I'd regain my power, far too late for Hawke.

"Why the delay? Heal him!" Fenris demanded.

"I can't" I said quietly, helplessly "I have nothing left".

Varric, kneeling at Hawke's other shoulder produced several healing flasks from inside his coat. I shook my head "They won't work. Not for this"

"Then find another trick, _mage_" Fenris' voice was thick with contempt. Hawke moaned in pain, one hand clutching weakly at the now healed wound in his side, the poison hidden but undiminished. "Easy Hawke" Varric gently gripped one shoulder to slip his coat under the dying man's head, Fenris' demand if not the contempt mirrored in his eyes.

Weakly I began to draw on my magic, blood welling afresh from my hands, knowing it was likely useless. Blood magic and healing did not go well together, least of all when the blood was yours. I would be unable to maintain the focus to heal before I could draw nearly enough of the power needed for a healing like this, and eventually the drain on me would be irreversible. Yet I could not sit by and do nothing, I prayed that Vengeance would not overwhelm my attempt at a sacrifice not for the cause. Then the knowledge hit me; there was another source of lyrium, if I could reach it in time.

I looked up to meet Fenris' glare, deliberately shifting my gaze to the markings entwining his arms then back to his face. "I need your help" I said quietly at the same moment he understood my meaning. His hands stiffened, the claws of his gauntlets twitching like a cat about to strike and his eyes sank to black in anger "No!" he hissed "I will not submit to that, not to you, not to anyone!"

I stayed silent; Hawke's life depended now on how much loyalty he had won from this scarred elf. _Take what you need_ a voice inside me said, _what is his hate compared to Hawke's life?_ I had no knowledge of the magic behind the markings; could I? Would I? Something flared weakly at the edge of the dregs of my healing sense and a scream tore from Hawke's throat, doubling him up in agony, his breath coming in retching gasps. Fenris' face twisted; damn you elf I would not let him die. At that moment he stepped forward "Do it" he rasped, hate in his eyes as he offered his arm. As I grabbed it for a moment I saw what lay behind the hate; terror.

There was no time to consider a method; I simply drew as much as I could, quickly, roughly. For a moment there was nothing but resistance, then Maker's breath! the power; raw, wild, far more potent than its distilled forms. I tried to balance the flow, erratic, tenuous and refused to think of any uses for it beyond the man in front of me. A lick of power re-opened the original wound, the poison would need to be drained; the only substance I had encountered that it seemed familiar to was the darkspawn taint. It not only killed as it spread, it corrupted; flesh to stone- stone somehow still living. Death would be a mercy. As I began I knew the treatment would seem nearly as bad. The poison could be forced out but the damage it left would need to purified- cauterized by any other name. As I tried to channel some power into easing his pain the flow sparked and dipped, almost snapping entirely before I could bring it under control, too much to manage. I couldn't risk the complication or delay to the healing, and I worried about further lowering his body's will to fight; grimly I closed my ears to Hawke's cries. And as I wrenched power to me every grudging step of the way I sensed the growing pain and helplessness that came with it; Denarius must have felt this too, likely enjoyed it. I shuddered and kept going.

Little by little I drew the poison out to trickle from the wound, mingling with the sweat that ran in rivulets from Hawke's fever-fired skin as it soaked into the ground beneath him. And for every moment of ease in halting its spread I brought more pain as the corruption that had already taken hold dug in deeper, slowing my ability to offer true healing, resisting the slow work of burning it back as Hawke writhed in agony under my touch. Through a seemingly endless cycle of one pace forward half a pace back, sometimes as I forced it out the poison seeped back in from another stream it had carved through his body, like water through invisible cracks in stone. In places where it had bitten deepest it seemed I was trying to heal stone, not living tissue; I drew more power, focused it, scoured the taint away layer by layer, unable not to sense what I was causing as bitten-off cries became choked, hoarse; overwhelmed by the struggle to draw breath. Finally, _finally_ the last of the taint was gone, progress came more easily, and it was done. Beyond exhausted I slackened my hold on the flow of power (from where? I couldn't recall) and it snapped out. Unthinking I looked up to take just a little more, always something to finish, just – and something smashed across my face, slamming me to the ground.

_Fenris_

Six years; six years I ran and hid and killed to never have to endure the touch of a mage again; what was one more death? And the mage was not asking for Hawke's sake only; a former slave and bodyguard I read body language very well and I could see the signs of his growing attachment quite clearly. For an instant the pain my refusal would cause him seemed almost worth the cost.

_His death would be the death of your future_

And what future do I have, running and hiding and killing until at last they take me? What part of that should I mourn losing? Yet I had learned to trust that part of me over the years to know when and where to run. I could not do this. Could that man truly offer something more? I crushed my fear as I stepped forward, they would not see it; this mage, weak as he was, would not break me.

As the power was torn from me the shock of it sent me to my knees, my hands clenching, I felt the tips of my glove hook into cloth and skin as the other tore gouges in the dirt beneath me. I would not cry out, would not give them that. I had become soft since my escape; I could not afford such weakness among mages, I needed to be prepared for anything that they might try. Another twist of power, on instinct I tried to pull away, but the hand that gripped my arm remained, pinned to the lyrium burning on my skin by a spike forced between the bones of my arm, a channel for the magic. I would not cry out. The power lashed wildly through me, every flare feeling as though it ripped pieces of me with it, skin, flesh, bones. Even Denarius had not typically been so rough unless I had given him cause to be angry. I bit my lip, felt the blood run, forced myself to focus on the pain, all I could control. I. Would. Not. Cry. Out.

My vision hazed in and out in the times when my eyes were open, shot through with streaks of blue. Gradually I became aware that the flow of power had lessoned, the fire dying to embers; abruptly the channel snapped, freeing me. I jerked my arm to my chest, shuffling awkwardly backwards through the violent tremors that enveloped me, as if the muscles would jump from my bones, feeling my breath rasp in my throat through locked teeth. Then the mage looked up; as I saw his desire to taste the power once more my rage overflowed and I lashed out, uncaring of what would follow. An instant later the realization of what I had allowed to happen, what I had _offered_, hit me, my stomach twisted and I turned away, falling to my hands and knees and retching in pain and fear, that _I would never be free_.

_Hawke_

Cold. Cold biting across my skin like thin ice, cracking with every muscle-wrenching shiver, running in trails of ice. How could it be so cold when underneath everything ran the pain, and the pain was not cold. Heat like molten steel just starting to run, filling a mould, eating away wherever it touched. Sometimes when the pain dipped I could distantly hear the sound of someone screaming, could see blue flashes across vision blurred and graying at the edges. Then the pain would flare, etching another line through me, at times exploding into whiteness beyond heat and cold and pain; too brief.

In bits and pieces the world crawled back in front of my eyes as the absence of pain became more lasting. Varric's face came into focus, leaning over mine, concern in his eyes. My throat felt scoured raw, I tasted blood and leather; as I pawed at whatever gagged me Varric released my arms from where he'd been pinning them across my chest. "Water" I rasped. Every muscle ached, both sides of my skull felt like they were trying to drill through to the centre. I took a swig from the flask he handed over and the cold of it hit my stomach. Too much too fast; bad idea. Varric yelped swiping the flask out of the line of fire as I rolled over, heaving, vaguely registering that from nearby sounds I wasn't the only one. As I dragged myself into sitting up he handed it back; I took a second more cautious sip to rinse the foulness out of my mouth and noticed Fenris and Anders straightening up, looking about as ragged as I felt. Andraste's arse what had happened while I wasn't paying attention? Varric surveyed the three of us throwing up our toenails across the cavern. "Did I mention how glad I am that I don't have to clean any of this up?" he remarked, to no-one in particular.

The trip back to Kirkwall took longer than any of us would have liked. I felt like I'd been rolled down Sundermount in a barrel, Anders and Fenris were a silent wall of seething hostility at my back. I'd sort that out later. Honestly except for Varric, the entire chantry choir led by the Grand Cleric in her underwear could have marched past us and we probably wouldn't have noticed. I heard the full story back at the clinic while we got patched up, listened with half an ear to half of Varric's information on shifters and a ghost story about a whole thaig turned to stone that moved and devoured anyone foolish enough to enter; then left. Right about the time we'd gotten to the clinic Fenris had slipped away without a word.

He was seated at one of the benches in the mansion's kitchen, his location of choice when he was uneasy. The darkness of the rest of the mansion did seem less here, it must have been one of the few areas Denarius had visited rarely if ever. The gated alley outside the window also offered easy access to Hightown's rooftops according to Varric. An opened bottle from the cellars sat between his hands on the table, the lines of his face and body tense although he would never acknowledge it if the lyrium caused him pain. His eyes are wary, waiting, not meeting mine only in brief glances.

"I heard what you did for me" I said into the silence "Thank you. For saving my life" It seemed completely inadequate to encompass what it must have cost him.

He raised an eyebrow "As I recall I _did_ very little, that was your mage. I was merely...a bystander" The mockery in the words didn't hide the thinness of the wall they put up.

"So today wasn't at all a case of facing one of your worst nightmares?" I asked; unwilling to play along with the pretence that what he had done was nothing. Or add support to the suggestion that it would be expected.

His eyes snapped to black in anger as he rose "You know _nothing_ of my worst nightmares, human!" he hissed.

"Probably true, even so; I'm sorry Anders…took advantage of you like that. I wouldn't have asked that for anyone" I hesitated "A new start shouldn't bring you more of what you fought so hard to leave behind" That much of what I'd said at least I knew was the truth, if not always accurate.

After a long moment Fenris closed his eyes and sighed, his anger draining. He looked at me "For anyone else, I would not have done it, mage or no mage" he said quietly "So. You are welcome" He returned to his seat, clearly seeking solitude. I placed the item I'd been intending to deliver on the bench "It's a healing brew. Nothing too strong it won't put you out, but it'll do wonders if you give it a night's sleep to work. You can even mix it with alcohol if you want, I checked"  
>His lips tightened as he looked at it "Do not give your trust to that one. Whatever he wants from you it will be for his benefit, not yours"<p>

As I turned to leave I couldn't say for certain that he didn't have a point, but I wasn't willing yet to have it be the whole truth.

"Since I've met him Anders has always been completely honest in his healing, to anyone who needs it. There's still a chance that that might be enough"

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><p><em>Author's notes: So there's an epilogue still to go, but after I wrote it I wasn't sure if it was needed. If you like the story ending here, it's not obligatory reading, if you liked it enough to want a little bit more then Yay! Either way yours truely reeeeally wants to know what you thought, and that review button is so shiny...Thanks for reading :)<em>


	3. Epilogue

_Fenris_

I waited until Hawke had left before flinging the flask to shatter its contents into the fireplace. I would accept no peace offering I knew to be false.

Several evenings later Varric arrived. He said nothing, watching as I made my way through the final elements of a twin blade kata. It was not a style I favoured but I drilled them to see how they would speak to others, and what could be learnt from them. What could be learnt could be countered; these days I did not care to feel unprepared.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when you mentioned dance routines, but it beats some of those Hightown affairs; they could put you to sleep just walking past the house" Varric commented.

"Learn an enemy's habits and you can learn their weaknesses. It makes them easier to kill" I responded.

He grinned "On second thoughts they might fit right in. Half the decisions that run this city are made on a dance floor. I'm sure you can figure out where the other half are made. So, haven't seen you at the Hanged Man for a while, we could use your bluffing skills at the tables tonight"

"I have had, other matters to attend to" I wanted solitude, circumstances I could control, not to leave myself open.

"Well Bianca said to tell you that she can't watch your back if you're not around" His tone turned serious "Look I know that business a few days ago cost you, even if I don't know what. But, don't get caught into being afraid just because it's easier than not being afraid. I mean, in the entire time I've known you I've never seen you take the easy way on _anything_"

I pulled back the flash of anger at his words and considered the offer behind them. Eventually I rose and retrieved my sword from the rack against the wall.

"I suppose it would be, rude, to keep Bianca waiting"  
>"She does get cranky" Varric agreed. "Oh and Isabela also said to mention something about underwear" he raised an eyebrow "I'm still trying to decide if I want to know what that means"<p>

Trust at least would be a tactic Denarius would not be expecting.

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><p><em>Huzzah! My first first-person fic!<em>


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